


In the Palm of His Hand

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Clothing Kink, Getting Together, Glove Kink, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Seasonal, Secret Snarry Swap 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-22 19:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Harry has a thing for Snape’s hands. Snape indulges him.





	In the Palm of His Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the terrific Snape_Potter mods for running this fest which is a highlight of the holiday season. Thank you to the prompter for a delicious, inspiring prompt. Thanks to Badgerlady for the proof read and thanks to everyone who has a read of this story, I hope you enjoy it! Happy Snarry Holidays, everyone.
> 
> Prompt 7 from themightyflynn: While watching Severus undress was fun, Harry always preferred to watch him dress instead.

**Trainee Auror Potions Exams, Ministry of Magic.**

Harry is eighteen when he first notices that Severus Snape has very dexterous hands. Considering Snape is at the top of his list of total arseholes, the small kernel of interest that takes up residence in the pit of his stomach takes him by surprise. It’s obviously not _interest_ in an…interested way. More a curiosity. Yeah, that’s it. A curiosity. A perfectly normal, fleeting realisation that Snape has very long fingers and nice hands.

No, not nice. It would be weird, thinking about any part of Snape’s body as nice. He has a hooked nose that’s far too big for his slim, angular face, dark, angry eyes, a mean smile and thick, greasy hair that hangs listlessly down to his shoulders. Even his hands are as unappealing as they are interesting, now Harry thinks about it. Long, slender fingers with bony knuckles and irregular ink-spots blooming over the white flesh like bruises. Short nails, thumbnails bitten away at the edges and slender wrists that emerge from the cuffs of his robes on occasion, pale and unexpected. 

Harry idly wonders what Snape’s skinny (and not remotely attractive) fingers might look like, undoing the buttons on his voluminous robes. The thought makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat as he attempts to squash the image from his mind. He really needs to stop thinking about Snape’s hands, and his buttons. He should be focusing on his exams, not the moderator. If Snape had anything to do with writing the paper it’s probably been specifically designed to make Harry’s life hellish. Besides, he can only imagine how hideous it would be to see Snape naked, with his nearly translucent skin, the brutal etchings of the Dark Mark on his forearm and his lean torso with a trail of wiry hair leading—

Fucking _hell_.

Harry picks up his quill with a trembling hand and doesn’t look at Snape for the rest of the exam.

*

**Harry Potter’s Office, Ministry of Magic. Ten Years Later**

Harry’s had more important things on his mind than the slender lines of Snape’s hands. Things like destroying a collection of cursed taxidermy in Surrey, becoming Head Auror, babysitting for Ron and Hermione’s new arrival and trying (unsuccessfully) to find a boyfriend. Because Harry has been so busy determinedly not thinking about Severus Snape’s hands, the dawning realisation that they still pique his curiosity takes him by surprise. Now, mercifully, Harry isn’t eighteen, horny, confused and angry at the world, but distressingly he’s old enough to recognise the direction his hand-related curiosity is going in. A bad direction. A terrible, unwise, impossible direction. 

“Are you even listening to me, Potter?” Severus arches an eyebrow in Harry’s direction and pauses mid-complaint. Harry’s so distracted by the large hands being waved in his face that he can’t even remember what Severus was complaining about. Something to do with Harry, probably. He can hardly be blamed for his poor attention span. He’s been driven half mad by weeks of unplanned meetings with Severus that stretch into hours of him gesturing with his hands while Harry tries to look completely unbothered.

“Of course I’m listening,” Harry lies. “I’m taking notes and everything.” He’s actually drawn a cross-eyed cartoon crup sticking its tongue out and a couple of buttons, but Severus doesn’t have to know that. He slides his notebook out of Snape’s eyeline when he notices him trying to glance at Harry’s non-existent notes. “Carry on.”

Severus glares at Harry. “I had actually finished.”

 _Oh thank Christ for that_ , Harry is tempted to say, but doesn’t. “Very well. I’ll take your complaint through the usual channels and—”

“—I beg your pardon?” Severus’ glare deepens, his eyebrows knitting together in an alarming fashion. “I just asked you to keep this between us. Do you always have such a flagrant disregard for confidentiality when people visit on official business?”

Harry doesn’t think now’s the time to point out that most people don’t sit in his office moaning on about stupid bollocks twice a week. The people that do are also polite enough to keep their hands still and not wave their distracting fingers in Harry’s face.

“Of course, naturally this remains between the two of us.”

Snape taps a long finger on Harry’s desk. “I expect _results_ , Potter.”

“Yeah, I’m all about results.” Harry tears his gaze from Snape’s finger and meets his eyes. They’re dark and unfathomable, his lips pinched together in displeasure. Snape is unattractive, Harry tells himself. There’s nothing remotely appealing about powerful wizards, angular cheekbones and a dark, possessive sort of stare. There’s certainly nothing _sexy_ about it. 

“Do you intend to come?” Snape looks suspiciously at Harry.

“Excuse me?” Harry rubs the back of his neck which is starting to sweat. Heat rises in his cheeks and he clears his throat. “Do I intend to what?”

“Do you intend to _come_ ,” Snape repeats, as if Harry didn’t hear him the first time. 

“Umm.” Harry laughs nervously, wondering if Snape’s using Legilimency on him to see if Harry had actually been listening, which he hadn’t. “I tend to need a bit more of a warm up than that, Severus.”

As soon as Harry says the words, he wants to snatch them back. Not only was the use of Snape’s first name an unexpected choice as he usually greets Snape with an irritated _oh, it’s you_ but there really was no need for saucy innuendo at three o’clock in the afternoon. Snape gawks at Harry and his whole body gets hot. What the fuck was he thinking? He can’t sit in his office flirting with Snape like a bloody Hippogriff on heat. Harry wants to crawl under his desk and disappear forever. The silence stretches between them, until eventually Snape raises a single, scathing eyebrow.

“You haven’t been listening to a single word I’ve said, have you?”

“No,” Harry confesses, miserably. He tips his notepad in Snape’s direction. “I drew a crup.”

Snape’s lips twitch. “So I see.” He peers at the notebook. “Are those buttons?”

“Yeah.” Harry closes the notebook and rubs his forehead. “I was distracted.” He swallows and glances at Snape’s long, elegant fingers. “You have very expressive hands.”

Both of Snape’s eyebrows rise this time, in perfect synchronicity. “Expressive?”

Harry crosses his arms and tries to look unruffled. “Yes, expressive. There’s no need to look so smug.”

“I rarely look smug about anything, Potter,” Snape replies, smugly. He stretches one bony hand out and flexes his fingers. “I simply find the reason for your distraction rather curious.”

“You’re not the only one,” Harry mutters under his breath. 

Snape stands and takes long enough doing up the buttons of his coat that it makes Harry break into a hot sweat. Every flex and twist of his fingers takes Harry’s mind to places it shouldn’t be going. He glances towards the spot where Harry’s battered duffle coat hangs on a peg and _harrumphs_ with displeasure. 

“Have you not had ample opportunity to acquire a proper coat and scarf?”

“It’s fine.” Harry waves his hand dismissively, even though he nearly froze his bollocks off on the way to the Ministry today. Heating charms around Muggles are against Ministry protocol and Harry’s walk to work involves being around Muggles. He’s been frazzled enough with all his paperwork, he hasn’t been able to face the shops yet with their long queues of festive shoppers. “What were you saying before you started complaining about my poor clothing choices?”

“If you’d been paying attention instead of indulging the workings of your feverish mind—”

“—Excuse me.” Harry glares at Snape. “There’s nothing feverish about my mind.” It’s not entirely true, but there’s no reason for Snape to know that.

Snape waves a dismissive and thoroughly distracting hand. “It’s likely easier if you see the issue for yourself in any event. Which is why I asked if you intend to come over this evening. To my house,” Snape clarifies. 

Harry stares at Snape. “You’re inviting me to your house?”

“Yes, Potter.” Snape turns his eyes heavenward. “In order to allow you to properly examine my package.” He smirks. 

“Oh come on.” Harry snorts with laughter. “Now you’re doing it on purpose.”

“I can’t imagine what you mean.” Snape folds his scarf around his neck. “Seven o’clock should do nicely. I suggest you eat beforehand, I have no intention of wining and dining you.” He looks down his nose at Harry. “Do you think you can manage to keep your hands to yourself?”

It's not Harry’s hands Snape needs to worry about. Harry contemplates Snape, who really does look very pleased with himself. “Of course I can keep my hands to myself. The question is, can you?”

“That, Mister Potter, remains to be seen.”

With a very ominous smile, Severus Apparates and Harry is left staring at the now empty space in his office, wondering what the fuck just happened.

*

Harry dresses nicely to go to see Snape. So much so that his mirror wolf-whistles at him and asks if he’s off on a date, which he absolutely isn’t. He doesn’t think. Because he can’t really remember much of their earlier conversation, he has no idea what the mysterious package is that Snape wants him to examine, but he supposes it’s best to be prepared for all eventualities. He hopes Snape appreciates the soft, warm blue jumper he selected and the fact his jeans—for once—don’t have holes in the knee. He settled for black jeans, thinking Snape would probably appreciate that, and put on a pair of smart brown boots.

He finally arrives at Snape’s house with a bottle of wine and knocks on the door. After a minute or two it creaks open, in a way that makes Harry suspect he’s walking into a trap of some kind. Frowning he extracts his wand and steps tentatively inside, closing the door behind him. The hallway is warm and cosy, with little candles flickering on the wall. As inviting as it is, however, it’s also completely empty and Severus is nowhere to be seen. Harry takes in the pair of black boots by the doormat and bends to unlace his own boots, kicking them off so he doesn’t leave muddy footprints all over Snape’s carpet. There’s something odd about being in Snape’s house in his socks. It makes the visit feel more intimate than the official Ministry business Snape had promised.

He makes his way through the hall and pushes open the living room door carefully. The room is small and cosy, a ramshackle collection of books teetering precariously in the overloaded bookcases which line one wall of the room. There’s a comfortable looking sofa at one side of the living room, with two worn leather armchairs arranged close to the fire. The fire crackles and spits in the hearth and the rug in the middle of the floor brings a brightness to the room that’s unexpected. The whole space is warm and comforting—far more inviting than Harry expected Snape’s home to be. He had envisaged cobwebs and cauldrons, or dramatic jars of newts’ eyes ogling him. The only evidence of a fascination with potions is the bookshelf with row after row of everything from battered copies of Muggle fiction to dog-eared, academic tomes with complicated titles and dusty spines. Snape must conduct his potions work elsewhere in the house, and Harry can imagine him here during the evening with a well-thumbed Dickens in hand and his feet pointed towards the fire as he reads. 

“Are you quite finished?” Snape’s voice pulls Harry from the bookcase and he turns to see Snape leaning in the doorway. He watches Harry with an expression that edges close to amusement, his lips tilting into a small smile. His eyes flare as he glances at Harry, his gaze flickering down and then up to settle on Harry’s face once more. The silent approval makes Harry warm all over, and he wonders what it is about Snape—Severus, he supposes—that makes him so nervous. 

“I was expecting flobberworms and rat’s feet,” Harry says with a grin. 

“Charmed.” Severus snorts under his breath. “I have a small laboratory for brewing. I prefer not to make my visitors feel as though they’re back at Hogwarts.”

Harry shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind being back at Hogwarts.”

“No,” Severus muses. “But you are most peculiar.”

“Thanks.” Harry laughs under his breath and gestures towards his feet, regretting the stripy Gryffindor socks. “I took off my shoes.”

“I can see that.” Severus sounds entertained by Harry’s awkwardness. “Your atrocious socks were one of the first things I noticed.”

Harry laughs properly this time and basks in the light, companionable mood between them. He takes a proper look at Severus, sucking in a light breath as he realises how _unbuttoned_ Severus is. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Severus in anything close to resembling Muggle clothes and the realisation that he has a thin, wiry frame with long legs clad in black trousers makes Harry’s heart stutter and jump in his chest. The form-fitting trousers aren’t even the worst of it. It’s the jumper that makes Harry hot and bothered. The way the arms of it are pushed up to reveal strong, slender forearms that meet the bony part of Snape’s slender wrists and then those infuriating hands of his. They look well-scrubbed this evening, with not an ink-stain in sight. Around one of his wrists is a simple Muggle watch with a deep brown leather band, positioned almost as if it’s designed to draw attention to his hands. 

“How about the rest of it?” Harry says, in a moment of boldness.

Severus contemplates Harry, his expression unreadable. “The rest of it is rather…appealing.”

“Oh.” Harry swallows, the room hotter than before. “Err, you too.”

Severus rolls his eyes and pours two glasses of red wine, handing one to Harry and taking a seat on the sofa. He extracts his wand and a small parcel winds its way into the room, bouncing towards Harry.

“Do I need to start from the beginning?” Severus asks, when Harry is settled on the other side of the small sofa, with the intriguing parcel in his lap. “As your mind was clearly elsewhere when I visited you at the Ministry.”

“Please.” Harry gives Severus a sheepish smile. “I promise to listen properly this time.”

Severus huffs. “Make sure you do, I’m not in the habit of repeating myself.”

“No.” Harry turns the package in his hands. It doesn’t feel magical or threatening. It’s wrapped in quite charming festive paper with wintery scenes on the surface that look as though they have come from a picture book. “I just hope you’re not going to start going on about the Ministry Yule Ball place settings again. I’ve already told you that’s out of my hands, although I’ve had a word with Rickleton and he’s going to see what he can do.”

“This is quite different.” Severus takes a sip of his wine before continuing. “As I indicated around the time at which you stopped listening, I am convinced that somebody has been doctoring my coffee at the Ministry.”

“ _What_?” Harry stares at Severus. He’s at the Ministry much more frequently these days, brewing potions for the Aurors who have been injured during their missions and working with the Department for Magical Creatures on developing a more palatable strain of Wolfsbane. Since leaving Hogwarts, Severus has become one of the most sought-after potions consultants in wizarding Britain and the Ministry frequently seek out his services which he—reluctantly—provides. “Why do you think that?”

Severus makes an irritated _cluck_ in the back of his throat. “Because I have been behaving quite out of character.”

“You could have fooled me.” Harry finds himself on the receiving end of a glare and he shuts up. “Sorry, carry on.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I have been behaving quite out of character.”

“In what way?” Harry notices that Severus seems to be watching him particularly intently and even though he promised himself he wouldn’t make any daft moves, he can’t help shifting closer towards Severus.

“I’ve found myself entertaining certain foolish fantasies, for a start,” Severus says. His voice is low and his gaze drops to Harry’s lips. “ _Very_ foolish fantasies.”

“Oh.” Harry sucks in a breath and shifts even closer to Severus. “Maybe they’ve been at my coffee, too. I’ve been having a few of those myself.”

“Is that so?” Severus runs the tip of his tongue over his top lip. “Perhaps we both have reason to exercise caution in that case.”

“Maybe so.” Harry turns the little parcel in his hands. “What does this package of yours have to do with it?”

“Ah.” Severus takes the parcel out of Harry’s hands and studies it, his long, slender fingers tapping against the surface. “Shortly after my morning coffee I had the strangest compulsion to go shopping for a festive gift for somebody I hardly consider a close personal friend.”

“You did?” Harry’s body heats and he blinks at Severus. “Very unlike you.”

“ _Very_ ,” Severus agrees. “I had opportunity to notice this acquaintance displays a flagrant disregard for the weather and I found myself in Hogsmeade on a whim. It’s precisely the kind of impulse I have become accustomed to ignoring.”

“But you didn’t ignore this one?” Harry clutches the parcel tighter.

“Not this one, no.” Severus holds Harry’s gaze. “This particular impulse has become rather difficult to ignore. In fact, one might say it’s rather persistent.”

“Do you want me to check the present?” Harry makes a show of getting out his wand and gives the parcel a quick magical scan. “It seems alright to me.”

“Indeed.” Severus nods. “Perhaps you should open it, just to be sure?”

Harry bites back a smile because only Severus Snape would go to this level of subterfuge to give somebody a Christmas present, which he’s fairly certain this is. It makes him warm all over, thinking of the fact that Severus would go to the shops to get something for Harry. He’s suddenly very pleased indeed that he spent ages in the shower and put on a nice outfit to go round to see Severus. The little house is warm and comforting and he shifts even closer to Severus, carefully opening the present as the fire hisses and spits and the clock on the mantelpiece ticks loudly.

When he finally gets the wrapping paper off the present, a little phial sits on top of a Madam Malkins bag that’s soft to the touch. He turns the phial and grins when he sees the familiar, spidery writing on the label. 

“Felix Felicis. Cool.”

“Useful, for an Auror who is remarkably fond of continually throwing himself headlong into dangerous situations.” 

Harry puts the phial down carefully and opens the Madam Malkins bag. His heartbeat quickens in his chest as he stares at the gift. “A scarf and gloves,” he says. His voice is slightly croaky and he knows his cheeks are flushed as heat pulses through his body, travelling from his chest to his face. “Leather gloves.”

“Indeed.” Severus’ voice is smooth and low. “It is winter, after all.”

“You wouldn’t want me to be cold,” Harry murmurs. The scarf is a soft, dark grey and it feels warm and comforting in his hands. He doesn’t think anyone has ever given him such a nice scarf before. He turns to Severus, sliding the scarf around his neck and blinking his eyes quickly as they sting with unexpected emotion. “How does it look.”

“Rather good.” Severus reaches out to adjust Harry’s scarf a little as Harry’s heart pounds wildly in his chest. Severus slides his fingers along the soft material before dropping his hand back into his lap. “Now do you see the problem?”

“Not particularly.” Harry takes a breath and puts the gloves down carefully. In one bold move he straddles Severus’ lap, making Severus _oomph_ as his breath leaves him in a surprised huff. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Severus slides those maddening hands of his down Harry’s back. “Do you always respond in such a fashion when you receive gifts?”

“Only when I really like them,” Harry says. “Besides, I’m checking to see if you’re still under some sort of curse.”

“Is that so?” Severus sounds amused.

“Yes.” Harry wriggles in Severus’ lap, his voice slightly breathless. “Perhaps I should kiss you? It would be very out of character if you kissed back.”

Severus clears his throat. “What a curious approach to scientific research.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Harry asks.

“No.” Severus slides his hand up Harry’s back and into his hair. “Not a single one.”

Harry lets Severus pull him down into the kiss, the unexpected warmth of Severus’ lips against his own taking him by surprise. Severus can kiss, Harry realises. It’s almost as good as the way Severus’ fingers press against Harry’s body as he shifts closer to Severus, deepening the kiss. Their tongues slide together and the slow, filthy-hot kisses become more urgent as Harry pushes his hands into Severus’ hair and tries to get as close as he can manage, fully clothed with his lovely soft scarf on. Severus winds Harry’s scarf around his hand and tugs him in, keeping him in place. After a dizzying number of kisses, Severus loosens his grip on Harry and slides cool fingers over Harry’s hot stomach.

“Oh god.” Harry jerks forward unexpectedly, the touch of flesh against flesh making him hiss with pleasure.

“So wonderfully responsive,” Severus murmurs. With a deft hand he unbuckles Harry’s trousers as he kisses along the line of his jaw and down, to the sensitive part of Harry’s arched neck. Everywhere he touches feels like a new and unexpected erogenous zone, those maddening fingers against Harry’s face, his jaw, his belly and _finally_ parting his trousers and running along the length of Harry’s cock. 

“Wait!” Harry gasps out and reaches for the gloves beside him.

“Too much?” Severus stills and moves his hands from Harry’s body which is not what Harry wanted at all.

“Not enough,” Harry replies. He gives Severus a glove and tries to fight back the flush he can tell is rising in his heated cheeks. “Put this on?”

Severus looks as though he wants to say something, but in the end he settles for a half smile, his dark eyes focused on Harry with possessive intensity that leaves Harry breathless. Images flood through his mind of Snape in those full, voluminous robes of his, taking Harry over his knee with leather gloves on. _Fuck_ , Severus gives Harry ideas he didn’t even know he was into before now. It’s those damn hands, that’s what it is. Severus shouldn’t be allowed to wave them around in public places. 

Harry sucks in a breath as Severus carefully puts on one of the gloves. He takes his time, sliding it over his hand and those brilliantly distracting fingers of his. It makes Harry’s heart pound harder in his chest, his body flushed hot with eager desire. Severus flexes his fingers and he doesn’t even get on the second glove before Harry’s had about as much as he can take. He jerks forward in Severus’ lap, his voice breathless.

“Fuck, please. _Please_.”

Severus arches an eyebrow but doesn’t make fun of Harry. Instead, he wraps his fingers firmly around Harry’s aching cock. They’re smooth and soft from the leather and the sensation of finally having Severus’ fingers touching him—leather-clad fingers at that—sends white-hot pleasure through Harry’s veins. He grips onto Severus and pulls him into a messy kiss, as Severus works his hand between them. In an embarrassingly short length of time, Harry reaches his climax with a low, jagged groan of desire.

“ _God_.”

“Severus will do just fine,” Severus murmurs. He’s back to being smug again, muttering a clipped spell to clean the nice new gloves Harry’s just ruined. He seems far too composed for Harry’s liking and, as the heat of his orgasm fades away, Harry slides onto his knees between Severus’ legs.

“Do you mind?”

“Not in the slightest.” Severus runs a long, leather-covered finger across the line of Harry’s jaw. His eyes are dark as he watches Harry, his fingers sending warm pulses of pleasure through Harry’s body. “Are you keeping your scarf on?”

“Oh.” Harry looks down and laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “No.” He slides it from his neck and hesitates, before yanking his jumper off too. He’s not overly concerned with things such as his appearance, but he still gets self-conscious when he’s naked around somebody for the first time. His chest has new battle scars etched into the flesh and he notices Severus looking at them with a heated stare. “It’s been a busy year.”

“I can see,” Severus says, tightly. He sounds angry. 

“Are they off-putting?” Harry glances down at his chest again. He wouldn’t expect Severus to be bothered about a few scars, but perhaps he expected Harry to look different—less battle-worn.

Severus rolls his eyes. “I think you underestimate your own charm.”

“Still.” Harry shrugs. 

Severus tips Harry’s chin back again and looks at him. “You are…quite lovely.”

“Oh.” Everything gets a bit warmer than before and Harry appreciates the effort that likely took from Severus. Satisfied, he gets to work unbuttoning Severus’ trousers, pleased with the ragged puffs of breath already leaving Severus’ lips. He sneaks a glance at Severus and notices that he too is being watched, with a look of bemusement as if Harry is something quite unexpected but not entirely unpleasant. There’s a fondness in the gaze that makes Harry’s stomach flip as his heart gives a happy little kick. He’s suddenly desperate to make Severus feel as good as he does. “You can pull and stuff. If you like.” Harry gestures to his hair, which is probably sticking up all over the place. He hopes Severus takes you _can_ pull as an enthusiastic request. He also hopes Severus will keep that sexy glove on.

Severus seems to understand without Harry needing to explain because he pushes two hands—both now leather-clad—into Harry’s hair. Harry has the distinct impression Severus is trying to drive him mad, so he decides to give as good as he gets. Even as Severus’ gloved fingers in his hair drive him to distraction, he focuses on the task at hand. Severus is thick, long and hard and it makes Harry hot all over thinking about Severus taking him over and over. He licks a slow line along Severus’ cock and tongues at the tip of it, before taking him fully into his mouth. Harry is good at this, and he knows it. He can tell Severus appreciates his effort from the way his hands tighten in Harry’s hair and his breath leaves him in a grunt. Harry fights back a smile and works his mouth over Severus. It’s so delicious, taking Severus into his mouth like this. He loves the weight of his cock and the way it stretches his mouth. Even when his jaw aches and his lips and chin are wet with saliva, he keeps moving over Severus with quick intent. 

Severus responds by setting the pace for Harry, using his hands to guide him and, as the speed quickens, his hands go slack in Harry’s hair. Instead of low, filthy murmurs falling from his lips, it’s as if he’s been rendered speechless, with grunts and groans replacing the brilliantly dirty promises from earlier. Harry holds Severus steady with his hand and pulls out his best tricks, knowing Severus is on the edge when his hand returns to Harry’s hair with an impolite yank of warning. Harry just shakes his head and continues until Severus comes with a shout, bucking up into Harry’s eager mouth.

Harry sits back, triumphant. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grins. That certainly shut Severus up.

It takes a good five minutes for Severus to catch his breath then he Apparates them both to the bedroom, which Harry takes to mean he’s being invited to stay.

*

The cool rays of winter’s watery sunlight filter through the thin curtains and Harry turns over with a groan, reaching for Severus. Instead of a warm body next to him, however, he finds cold sheets and an empty bed. With a frown he opens his eyes to catch Severus half-way through buttoning his familiar black robes. The sight makes Harry’s throat dry.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I have three potions under a Stasis Charm and I thought I would take the opportunity to check on them and perhaps make coffee, whilst you were sleeping.”

Harry yawns and waves at Snape’s outfit. “Bit formal for coffee and toast in bed, isn’t it?”

Severus glares down his nose at Harry. “There will be no _toast_ in bed, Potter. I can’t abide crumbs.”

“Coffee, then.” Harry stretches and lets the duvet slip a little to reveal a bit more skin. He can feel Severus looking and, as he’s already half-hard, he’s quite happy about that. “It’s a bit formal for making coffee.”

“I have learned over the years it is unwise to tend to volatile potions in one’s underpants.”

Harry snorts. “As if you’d brew in your underpants.”

“I might.” Severus does another button up with dexterous fingers. Harry’s body heats and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, now fully alert to Severus dressing. Severus sighs and mutters something rude under his breath. “Should I be offended by the fact you look so pleased by the fact I’m putting my clothes on instead of taking them off?”

“I don’t look pleased about anything,” Harry says. “Do I?”

“You do.” Severus does up another button. “You are remarkably easy to read.”

“Tell me what I’m thinking, then.” Harry grins at Severus and stretches again, letting the duvet slip a little more. “If I’m so easy.”

“You’re thinking something impertinent, I have little doubt.” Severus rakes his eyes over Harry’s skin, his eyes darkening. “You seem to have something on your mind.” He slides another button into the hole, deftly.

“Maybe.” Harry’s sure Severus must have some idea of Harry’s _thing_ for his fingers, after he hardly needed any encouragement to come all over the lovely gloves Severus had given him. After going to bed though, they ended up falling into a deep sleep, and Harry can’t help but feel his biggest fantasy is yet to be fulfilled. “It’s those expressive hands of yours.”

“I see.” Severus raises his eyebrow and his hands still. “You do seem rather distracted by them.” He begins buttoning again, a look of gleeful self-satisfaction returning.

“I am. I’m very distracted.” Harry runs a tongue over his lips. “Does this potion need to be checked right now?”

“I’m in no rush. I simply expected you to sleep later.”

“Well I’m definitely awake now.” Harry gestures downwards, where the hard line of his erection can be clearly seen under the thin sheets. “So to speak.”

“As I can see.” Severus sits on the bed next to Harry, sliding his fingers down under the duvet and along Harry’s chest. “Is there something you’re particularly interested in this morning?”

“You know there is.” Harry’s voice is rough, and he reaches for Severus, pulling him down into a kiss. When they break apart, he shuffles into the centre of the bed and reaches out a hand to Severus. “Do you ever like, err, using your fingers? In bed, I mean. To, umm. Well, you know.”

“I think I can hazard a guess.” Severus rolls his eyes. He sits on the bed, resting his back against the headboard. 

Harry watches, rubbing his eyes as Severus reaches to extract a small glass jar from the bedside cabinet. His heart gives an erratic kick of interest. “Is that lube?” he asks, trying to keep the question casual.

“Yes. Well observed.” Severus’ lips twitch and he pats his lap. “Come on then.”

“Are you going to keep your robes on?” Harry doesn’t want to offend Severus (again) by implying he likes him better dressed than undressed. He likes Severus all of the ways, but he can’t deny there’s something about Severus being buttoned up and Harry being completely starkers that sends a hot flush of pleasure through his body.

“I believe so.” Severus slicks his fingers when Harry straddles him and rubs them through the crease between Harry’s buttocks in a deliberate tease. He slides his other hand over Harry’s thigh. “I rather like how vulnerable you are in this position.”

“Perv,” Harry says. 

“Oh, most decidedly.” Severus slides a slick, slow finger inside Harry and the sensation is almost too much to bear. He brings his mouth to Harry’s neck, pressing his lips against Harry’s pulse point, which must be skipping and tripping rapidly. “Is that an issue?” he murmurs against Harry’s over-heated skin.

“God, no.” Harry groans under his breath and closes his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath when Severus pushes two fingers steadily inside him. His hands find purchase in the voluminous layers of Severus’ robes and he rocks back against Severus’ fingers, touching every inch of the cloth covering his body. “I’ve fantasised about this,” he confesses, brain clearly addled by the insistent push and twist of Severus’ talented fingers inside him.

“That’s because somebody is spiking our coffee, as I have already told you.”

“Yeah, that’ll be it.” Harry chokes off a laugh when Severus rubs against a spot inside him. “Oh _fuck_.”

“Hmm.” Severus brushes his lips to Harry’s jaw. “Later, if you wish.”

“I wish. Want. Please don’t stop.” Harry knows his thighs must be shaking underneath Severus’ hand in the effort of keeping himself in an easily accessible position and not moving too much. It’s a relief when Severus nudges him back onto the bed and then returns to fuck his fingers into Harry with force.

Harry arches his back and clutches at the sheets, only capable of making the odd _nngh_ and moan of encouragement. If Severus’ fingers distracted him before, he can only imagine what they’re going to do now Harry knows the pleasures they’re capable of eliciting. He can’t imagine how he’s going to control himself at the Ministry Yule Ball, with Severus handling delicate cutlery, dapping a napkin against the corner of his mouth, his fingers curled around the stem of his wine glass. Not to mention last year Severus wore dress robes so striking they made Harry’s mouth water. He’s honestly fucked if he thinks he’s got a kneazle in hell’s chance of getting through the night without accosting Severus in a shadowy corner somewhere.

He’s so desperate for Severus. So eager to be fucked and sucked, to feel Severus touching every last inch of his skin. Harry doesn’t think they’ve even scratched the surface of the things he wants to do with Severus. When Severus wraps a lube-slick hand around Harry’s prick, he’s so close to coming from the long, glorious fingering alone that it doesn’t take more than a few tugs for Severus to bring him to climax. Even though it was only fingers, he wriggles happily at aftermath of the light stretch that even two of Severus’ fingers managed to create. He can’t wait to feel the burn of Severus’ cock inside him. He’s not sure he’s been so hungry to spend the whole day—the whole month if he could—with somebody else for years.

“You make me really horny,” Harry says. It’s the best way he can put it.

“You’re a strange creature.” Severus has that look from the night before, a fond amusement as he contemplates Harry. “Yet I have no complaints.” He brushes his fingers over the light marks on Harry’s chest, his frown returning. “Do you not have adequate medical attention after your duels?”

“There’s not much time usually.” Harry shrugs. “I’ve got to interrogate people and make sure they don’t get away. I go to the infirmary when I can, it’s just a few cuts.”

“You could come here afterwards. If you wish.” Severus doesn’t look at Harry, a light flush rising in his cheeks. Harry thinks of the warm scarf and gloves and gets warm to the tips of his toes.

“You’re just like Molly underneath it all, aren’t you?”

Severus gives Harry a horrified look. “I most certainly am not. Take that back this instant.”

Harry laughs and runs his hands over the taut lines of Severus’ chest, feeling the little, cloth-covered buttons under his skin. “Perhaps not _exactly_ like Molly.” He moves to straddle Severus again and wriggles in Severus’ lap, noticing he’s half-hard beneath Harry’s bum. “Want me to get you?” 

“Not yet.” Severus presses a kiss to Harry’s forehead before pulling back. “Shower, then come downstairs. I have other plans.”

“I bet you do.” Harry catches Severus’ hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it before releasing it again. It’s an odd sort of gesture, but somehow it feels right and from the pink in Severus’ cheeks it appears he doesn’t seem to mind. Harry would be tempted to laugh at the fact Severus seems more comfortable with having his fingers knuckle deep inside Harry’s arse or making nefarious plans to fuck him over the breakfast table than he does with Harry giving his hand a grandmotherly kiss, but Harry thinks he understands it. He thinks of the subterfuge Severus went to just to give Harry his gift, the promise to tend to Harry’s battle wounds and the way his eyes get fiery with heat and passion. He resolves to get Severus something nice for the holidays. His heart swells as he looks at Severus, making a mental resolve to give him whatever affection he can get away with before Severus hexes him.

“I’ve been thinking about this stuff someone’s been putting in our coffee.”

“Is that so?” Severus raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Harry swallows. “How long do you think that sort of thing might last?”

“Oh.” Severus contemplates Harry. “I expect until the perpetrator is caught.”

“Probably.” Harry takes a breath, gathering his courage. “The thing is, Severus, I don’t want you to think I’m not taking your concerns seriously, but I’ve got a number of urgent matters to attend to. I don’t think I’ll be able to put much effort into catching this person, whoever they are.”

Severus’ lips twitch. “Do those urgent matters involve doodling crups and buttons?”

“They might.” Harry grins and leans in, brushing his lips over the exposed skin on Severus’ neck which makes him shiver. “They also involve having a lot of brilliant sex and finally doing some Christmas shopping. Fancy a dirty weekend at the Three Broomsticks? You’re good at buying presents, you can help me choose.”

“I can’t think of anything more dreadful,” Severus says. “The present buying, that is. Yours was purchased far more out of irritation with your flagrant disregard for your own well-being. The people—myself included—that threw ourselves into the path of mortal danger didn’t do so in order for you to contract pneumonia walking to work.”

“You can just come for the dirty weekend bit, then. Bring a book for the rest.”

“Hmm.” Severus pulls Harry close, squeezing his backside and leaning in for a kiss. “How dirty are you thinking, Potter?”

“Very,” Harry says, cheerfully. “Properly filthy, I’d say. I might even buy some sex toys from that place in Knockturn before we go.”

Severus shudders. “I wouldn’t advise it. There’s a reason that shop is always empty. I suggest Muggle or speaking to me.”

“Oh?” Harry sucks in a breath. “Would speaking to you help?”

Severus smirks. “It might.”

“ _Brilliant_.” Harry leans in for another brain-melting kiss. “I’ll speak to Rickleton about the ball. Tell him you’re my plus one, if you like.”

Severus gives Harry a look. “That’s rather bold of you.”

“To assume?” Harry’s chest clenches.

“No.” Severus runs a finger along Harry’s jaw, his eyes following the path of it instead of meeting Harry’s gaze. “To expose your peculiar choices of paramour to the wider world.”

“There’s nothing peculiar about my choices, thanks.” Harry snorts. “Anyway, they’ll find out somehow. We might as well get something out of it. And by _something_ I mean finding somewhere to get off because if you wear those velvet robes again I’m going to lose my mind.”

“That does sound rather appealing.” Severus’ throat works, his tone cautious. “I am a private man, Harry.”

“Me too.” Harry watches Severus, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t flaunt it, you know.”

“I have been aware of that for some time.”

“But they’re still going to dig around and find things out. They always do. At least this way I can give a statement and let them get on with it.” Harry nuzzles Severus’ neck, noticing he seems to be particularly sensitive there from the way he grips Harry tighter. “What about these plans of yours, then?”

“Insatiable brat,” Severus says, more fondly than he probably intended. He gives Harry’s backside a light swat and speaks into the shell of his ear, his voice silky-smooth and practically pornographic. “I thought I would show you my laboratory for a start. Bend you over my desk and drive you to the edge with my tongue and fingers, before fucking you until you forget your own name.”

Harry doesn’t need any more encouragement. He gives Severus a fierce kiss, then practically bounds into the shower, making sure he washes every inch as thoroughly as he can.

He can’t help but feel that having a limited attention span when it comes to Severus Snape making official complaints worked out pretty well after all.

**Author's Note:**

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